


The Light of Your Eyes. The Warmth of Your Smile.

by itsbeautiful



Series: Fabric of a Fragile Home [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A priest a cannibal an empath and possesive fiance walk to the beach, Chasing and running away ensues, Day At The Beach, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Elias is too precious for this world, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal is Grumpy, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Peter is a sweet asshole, Picnics, Playful idiots, Skinny Dipping, Soft Boys, Someone gets buried in the sand, Star Gazing, Teasing, There's a food fight, Tickling, Will is a terrible influence, Will is happy, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsbeautiful/pseuds/itsbeautiful
Summary: A time stamp series from characters and events from main novels of Transcendent Suffering and Echoes Beneath.Dedicated by request to my beloved readers. You are the light of my life.* * *“Will!” The older man’s eyes snapped open, heaving up right, and smacking a sneaky hand once more and then a backside for good measure. “Leave my profiteroles alone this instant or find something else to do with your time.”“What I normally do with my time happens to be scolding me…” Will reminded with a lazy roll of hips against a thickening interest with a smirk. “He also is very fussy about me blowing him in front of company.”“You Americans and you’re rules. How dull it must be for you with all these standards of conformity and politeness.”Peter rucked up a soft cotton hoodie, exposing a frail ribcage, kissing a freckle on the priest’s stomach until he giggled then flushed a furious shade of red.“Elias and I have no such reservations.”“We know,” Hannibal and Will groaned in unison.





	

This would never have happened in Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen. Particularly if he had been cooking alone. Even when he had hired help in the past for dinner parties, all of those under his employ followed his exact and explicit instructions. He exercised control in all things.

(Most things. He saw no good reason why Will _shouldn’t_ bind his wrists with a necktie, bend him over the desk belly down, and receive several rounds of arousing swats from a leather belt when the younger man was having a stressful day. He was, after all, rather fond of demanding fingers yanking on his hair while he looked up into powerful eyes with a mouth full of cock.)

In this instance though, he had both unwillingly and utterly, lost control of the situation. It was chaos. Anarchy. Anarchy with pouting lush lips tossing about hours of hard work and he would not stand for it!

“Would you kindly desist!” Hannibal roared as a puff pastry flew over his head.

“Catch!” Will called, three more pastries cupped in the palm of his hand.

Lilac eyes grew impossibly large as Elias lunged after the trajectory of the pastry in question and snatched it out of the air with pearly teeth. The priest flopped on his back, chewing, beaming up from a blanket spread out on a sandy beach. He snuggled deeper inside a sea foam hoodie, toes wriggling in the sand. Dimples deepened then flushed.

Now how on earth was he supposed to reprimand the boy? He was practically the physical embodiment of _Aether_ and the spirit of _Dionysus._ He turned his attentions to the root cause of all their troubles. His own god _, Eros_ , of bittersweet cruelty and playful trouble making.

“William, you are a horrendous influence!” The older man scowled, scrabbling to get his last few pieces of dessert away. “Stop encouraging him.”

Hannibal managed to wrestle Will to the ground, a knee on his chest and one wrist pinned, but not quick enough. The puffs were jammed in a grinning mouth, white sugar powder the only evidence remaining on a pink cheek.

“Corrupting is more like,” The younger man hounded with his mouth full, blue eyes sparkling in lamplight. “And aren’t we a little grumpy today.”

 _Appalling…_ He hadn’t even had the opportunity to try one. Hannibal swiped a thumb through powdery white and brought it to his lips. _But delicious._

The younger man started laughing then coughing. Hannibal rocked back still straddling a slim torso, crossed arms, and considered letting him choke to death. He was of course distracted by the gauzy powder blue Henley shirt hitching up a heaving ribcage. The older man reconsidered. He couldn’t let him choke. What kind of host would he be? Well, not to death anyway. He could have Will choke on parts of his anatomy later on, which would be an entirely better punishment. Oh. And he loved the sneaky, infuriating, reckless little minx of a man. Even if he did sometimes make his life hellishly frustrating. For no apparent reason, good or otherwise. He relinquished his hold and folded legs under himself once more, sifting through the war torn picnic basket.

A broad pale hand slapped, with more force than absolutely necessary, against a back with a growl. “You had better mean that in a less sexual way, Will, as corruption is currently my job.”

“From…” Will coughed a few more times, curled on his side then rolled on his back to catch his breath, searing gaze sliding over. “…what I hear you are doing _adequately_ so there’s no need to discuss replacing you just yet. Hey!”

The younger man ducked as a succession of ice cubes from a chilled wine bucket were thrown his direction before raising a middle finger directed at where they came from.

"If we're going to play the game of who corrupted our Father Elias more then I might remind you he was a man of faith before he met us."

"Technically..." A tiny nose scrunched. "I still am?"

"He was a priest when I met him," Peter countered briskly. "And that was long before either of you. He shared my bed first."

Peter was stretched on his stomach, feet swinging in the air, with one hand running through short sandy brown hair and the other idly flipping through a _G.Q._ magazine next to the electric lamp. His translucent pearl skin was cast in a haze of blue, long blonde hair coiled at the nape of his neck.

"I-I-I. We never-" Elias sputtered turning bright red, lowering watering eyes.

"Enough," Hannibal commanded sharply. "The both of you. You know better than to tease the sparrow about his past." He pressed a chaste kiss to a forehead. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, little dove. Your choices are your own and they do not reflect ill of you in any of our eyes. You are welcome here. And they owe you an apology for their crass behavior. You know better than to pay either of them any mind."

"Sorry, _mon petit chou_ , you are my world. I love you."

"Me too. I didn't...I didn't mean it like that. Please don't cry?"

Grey eyes flicked up, page crinkling as it turned, then rolled distastefully. Will stuck out his tongue. Elias looked conflicted and then giggled.

Hannibal turned his gaze to the midnight sky of the heavens. _Do you not see what I have to endure?_

“Dessert—“ The older man turned in time to slap a hand away from the picnic basket fishing for another snack. “–cannot precede dinner, and there will be nothing left if the three of you keep stealing it!”

“Yes, but—“ Elias sat up to protest.

“Oh hush.” Peter pushed the priest back against the blanket, wriggling fingers beneath a hoodie, tickling until legs and arms lashed out in a fit of laughter. “No one wants to hear your excuses.”

A pout trembled. “But I was hungry.”

“You are always hungry _, amour_. And yet so very lovely and petite.”

Hannibal found himself flat on his back a moment later. His white half apron unraveled as Will stripped him of it, palms spread on his chest, leaning forward with a wicked smile. He supposed he could manage not breathing, at least for a little while, and the view was exquisite. It would be a good way to die.

“It isn’t stealing if we found it, love,” The younger man informed in a low drawl. “And what about the time you had _café liégeois_ a full two hours before we were to join Peter and Elias for dinner? You hardly ate anything after.”

The neckline of gauzy material gaped open exposing a gold toned chest and rose nipples chilled by the night air. He lay back and imagined how they might taste on his tongue. He ran hands up well worn denim jeans and hooked them around hips, lazily tracing where cloth met skin.

“Or the time you invited us and Hannibal was having _crème fraiche_ at one o’clock in the afternoon?” Elias chimed in from where he was snuggled on top of Peter, half asleep, eyes barely open.

There was a snort. “If you would knock—“

“Between your thighs if I recall.” A French accent rolled off a tongue thick with teasing. “And _you_ gave us a key, Will.”

“Hmm…” Hannibal closed his eyes, recalling the afternoon mentioned in perfect detail, sighing as a mouth moved from his jaw to the taut stretch of his neck.

“Jealous, Peter?”

“Hardly.”

The picnic basket rustled. It was a trap.

“Will!” The older man’s eyes snapped open, heaving up right, and smacking a sneaky hand once more and then a backside for good measure. “Leave my _profiteroles_ alone this instant or find something else to do with your time.”

“What I normally _do_ with my time happens to be scolding me…” Will reminded with a lazy roll of hips against a thickening interest with a smirk. “He also is very fussy about me blowing him in front of company.”

“You Americans and you’re rules. How dull it must be for you with all these standards of conformity and politeness.”

Peter rucked up a soft cotton hoodie, exposing a frail ribcage, kissing a freckle on the priest’s stomach until he giggled then flushed a furious shade of red.

“Elias and I have no such reservations.”

“We know,” Hannibal and Will groaned in unison.

It was a wonder there was a sanitary surface left in their house.

Mischievous blue eyes met lilac ones. Will and Elias began to smile, a slow spreading thing like honey. Flip flops slipped on to feet. They stayed perfectly still. For a whole three, blissful seconds.

“Go!” Will whispered snatching a bottle of wine and tossing it.

Elias dove after it, hit the sand, then scrambled up and was off running down the beach in a flash. Will lunged for a handful of pastries, laughing endlessly as he too chased after a blurring figure. Hannibal saw the flash of a knife and jumped to his feet—

_How dare—_

—and then the two of them were drinking _straight_ from the bottle. His wine!

“William Lecter! Elias Svendsen!” Hannibal got to his feet, shouting, throwing hands up in the air in dismay and frustration. "Come back this instant!"

A cork popped free directly down and to his left.

“ _Peter_!”

The young man looked up from where he lay, magazine traded for a corkscrew and wine bottle, one blonde brow arched curiously.

“You will relinquish that bottle of eighteen eighty six port if you know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t…” A lazy smile rippled on Peter’s face, locking eyes with Hannibal as he lifted the bottle and took a long, slow swig, before nodding in the direction of Elias. “Never have. I leave all such afterthoughts of morality to God.”

Laughter had him looking up. Will and Elias were attempting to catch dessert like dogs chasing frisbees once more. They traded the wine bottle back and forth, arms linked as they meandered down the shoreline, perfectly uncaring at the danger lurking on the beach. With a low growl, Hannibal stalked across sand, pausing once to roll his trousers up to his knees. They were his good cashmere ones too. Then he started to run.

“This will not end well for you! Either of you!”

Three dogs lifted their heads from where they slumbered, tails wagging furiously scattering sand, and took after the three men chasing one another on the beach with delighted barks and bounds.

“Come on, sparrow!”

Will grabbed Elias by the hand with a toothy grin, eyes sparking bright blue on the horizon, and they took off once more in a rush of sand and ocean waves. They were spry and light on their feet. But Hannibal had sheer strength and years of tracking prey on his side.

“Shit, he’s gaining on us!” Will huffed, before jogging backwards, both hands cupped over his mouth calling, “You are remarkably fit for an old man.”

“An old—“ Hannibal stopped his tracks, running a tongue over sharp teeth, growling.

Oh, he was going to pay for that. One way or another.

Pupils dilated. “Fuck! Go!”

The pair raced away in a splash of ocean water. Hannibal nearly upon them when a flip flop got stuck in wet sand and Elias stumbled, reaching to free himself. The older man grinned, tipped forward and ran faster, teeth glinting in the light.

“Will, wait!” The priest cried. “My shoe!”

“Forget the—!” Will wheeled around, eyes going wide, and snatched both Elias and the flip flop he was clinging to out of the air and scooped the squealing boy into his arms, grinning. “Oh for—it’s a good thing I love you, you know! Ready to fly? Hold on tight!”

The older man felt his outstretched hand fall through a mist of ocean spray right where the two of them had been just a second ago. His heart and lungs burned with a playful heat. Dogs flew passed in a raucous clamor of barking, sending water every direction. Hannibal was soaked from the waist down. Will was now a good ten meters ahead of him, running off with Elias in his arms, laughing and laughing at his good fortune and the stamina youth provided him. He chased after them with a growl of determination, gaining on them. His clothing alone deserved retribution.

“Will! Will, run faster!”

“Go, go!” Will set Elias on his feet, pushing the wine bottle with what little contents remained into outstretched arms, and sent the priest scampering off with a push. “Take this with you. Hurry now or the big bad wolf will--Christ!”

“William!”

Hannibal threw both arms around a smaller waist, lifted Will off his feet, and heaved him upward, caging him in with a harsh grip around thighs.

“Yes, angel?” The younger man asked innocently from above with a lopsided smile.

The moon cast a halo of silver over long drooping curls, sending jewels of a quivering ocean crown sliding down a pleased looking face. The older man’s breath hitched and he forcefully reminded himself to exhale.

“You have been a willfully disobedient boy…” He warned, voice dipping low and hoarse.

Absolute content replied as Will twisted, wrapping both legs around a waist. “Uh huh.”

His hands moved along the distraction of muscle flexing against his torso and curved up to knead an ass. Low laughter pressed against his mouth, tongue flicking in and out of his own.

A murmur was lost to another dip of a tongue. “I ought to punish you right here.”

“Oh yeah?” A silky voice purred against his ear, palm sliding between their bodies. “In front of all these people? Maybe Peter will make a progressive of you yet.”

Nimble fingers brushed up the length of his cock. His thoughts sputtered like a flooded engine. Peter. His wine. Elias. His pastries. Something about anarchy. And Will. Devious trouble maker bent on wrecking his entire life one powdered dessert at a time. Where had he been going with that train of thought again?

Sand crunched lightly. Maroon eyes flicked to the side to catch Elias sneaking closer and closer in an attempt to retrieve Will from his evil clutches no doubt. Hannibal pushed at a chin with his thumb until lips slid apart, leaning back, and flashed teeth up at Will.

A body stiffened, sensing danger. “H-h-hann, don’t you even—“

What else could he do? Hannibal threw Will into a crashing ocean wave, watched his lovely mop of hair plunge beneath the surface, and grinned victoriously. Dogs descended on their sputtering master a second later. Then he lunged and chased after Elias, wicked laughter booming in the silence. He caught the wine bottle tossed his direction and dropped it in the sand.

“Nooo!” Elias squeaked, fleeing towards the refuge of the picnic blanket. “Will! Peter! Peterrr!”

Peter was too busy drinking, phone in hand taking photos, and laughing to be of any use to anyone. He was not a very good prince to sacrifice his loving little damsel.

_And sacrificed he shall have to be._

Lilac eyes darted over a shoulder. “Hannibal, I didn’t—“

Hannibal descended upon the fluttering sparrow, snatched him up, and carried him off thrown over his shoulder. He hurled him in the direction of his accomplice. Will had just surfaced, soaking wet, sputtering only to be knocked back down beneath another crashing wave as he caught Elias mid-flight. The older man walked back up the shore, retrieved the bottle, and drained its contents. He watched Elias and Will struggling to free themselves from the ocean. By the time they stumbled up the banks, dramatically supporting one another, they were shivering. The younger man was fuming. It was his turn to laugh. So he did.

“You know very well…” Will howled, stripping off his shirt and wringing it furiously. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes for any of us!”

“To be fair…” Hannibal licked his lips, letting eyes rove over exposed skin draped in sea foam and black of the night. His own personal siren ascending to tempt him to his death. “I think both Peter and I might find that advantageous. Particularly if it means you willingly strip out of them to keep warm.”

Steely blue eyes narrowed, shirt hurled to the sand. “You had better run, Hannibal fucking Lecter!”

 

*

Fire crackled and snapped on twigs and logs until it grew brighter in an orb of warmth.

“I would advise you to—“ A growl rushed out in a stuttered breath.

Will flopped down on the beach, ruffling a hand through soaking curls. “Ah, so much better.”

A threatening groan drew a sweet smile across his mouth. Will glanced down. He was sitting on a chest. One belonging to a man who was currently buried two feet deep in sand with nothing but his neck and head above the surface.

“Welcome to your reckoning, Doctor Lecter.”

Maroon eyes narrowed, lip curling. Will pat a cheek and smiled.

“You are useless, Peter!” A tiny voice cried petulantly.

Elias sat down in a huff, chest bared and legs crossed, pouting. Peter shrugged and laid out the soaking wet hoodie next to Will’s shirt beside the fire. He had been trying to dry off the priest with a corner of his dress shirt. To be fair, he had been doing more touching than drying. Out of the four of them the man seemed to always come away from their antics unscathed. It was vexing.

“The view is just so very distracting…” Peter murmured, settling behind Elias, drawing him in arms to sit between impossibly long legs. He kissed along the seam of a neck down a shoulder. “It is it truly my fault for being incapable of focusing on anything else?”

Elias squirmed, pouting for several more seconds while pretending he was able to remain mad, and wasn’t about to kiss Peter with all the forgiveness in the world. Which he did. Of course.

Will rolled his eyes and took a drink from a freshly opened bottle. “This wine is fantastic.”

“It truly is,” Peter agreed, passing a pink moscato to the priest.

Elias hummed, curling against a chest, seemingly on the verge of sleep. “Mmhm.”

By the fuchsia hint of his cheeks alone Will could tell he was already drunk and hid a smile behind his hand.

“Yep. This wine is just really, really good. Too bad I can't find anyone to thank for bringing it.”

The sand beneath him struggled and shifted. Will looked down to find the head of Hannibal Lecter glowering death threats up at him.

“Would you like some?” The younger man tipped the neck of the wine bottle near lips, grin flashing, keeping it just out of reach. “Or are you too preoccupied with schemes of revenge to be bothered down there?”

The older man sulked as the wine bottle vanished. “I cannot feel my limbs.”

_Christ. You shouldn't be so kissable when you're pissed at me._

“Oh? Really?” Will shifted, setting the bottle down, feign of concern rippling deep on his forehead.

There was a spark of hope in blood red eyes. He could see the gears turning in the older man’s head. Saw the events of a kiss turning in to sweaty, languid romp on the beach after he was freed. As if Will would forgive him as easily as Elias forgave Peter. Peter, however, had not chased them across the beach and then tossed them gleefully into the ocean. Granted he had not helped either. Something would have to be done about that.

Plunging his hand through sand, Will groped until he found a knee, slid his palm between thighs and squeezed until he felt a cock stir. He rubbed until Hannibal’s mouth fell open, eyes closing to slits, and then retrieved his hand and sat back down. On his chest. Grinning.

“Still there.” A wink scattered hopes and dreams of freedom and make up sex. “Promise.”

 

*

Elias swayed lazily inside of strong arms, warmed from the inside out at last, chewing thoughtfully on a crisp gold marshmallow on a stick. He had never had this particular dessert. He liked it. It was simple and gooey. And he was certain he was going to have a stomach ache from eating too many sweets. A risk he was willing to take.

“Mine were far better…” A voice grumbled.

Three sets of eyes rolled, voices answering as the same time. “ _We know_!”

The priest giggled as Hannibal sulked, freed from his sandy cage after half an hour, bent on knees and glaring down at the strange ‘food’ suspiciously. He looked ridiculous. His clothes were soaking wet from when Will and then Elias had wrestled him down, held him beneath the waves, and then dragged him up the shore kicking. His hair was sticking up at every angle imaginable. He had never seen a cuter pout, except for possibly his own.

Will had one arm around Hannibal, the other busy twisting marshmallows on a stick in flames, squinting in mental effort to make sure they were evenly cooked. The older man lay his head on a shoulder, eyes drifting closed. Ever since the ceremony Elias had watched them become closer with every passing day, watching the shadows recede from their eyes. They were content in the company of one another. The rest of the world faded. 

_They deserve to be happy..._

“Eat your burnt marshmallows, you grumbling heathen,” Peter commanded, passing a twig back to Will for more gooey confection.

Elias hummed, pleased by the prospect of his fiancé feeding him more marshmallows and kissing him between sips of wine. He tasted sugary. He loved sweets. He loved Peter. More so now that he tasted like his favorite desserts.

“There is sand permeating every fiber of my clothing,” Hannibal complained after a fleeting minute.

Peter replied dryly. “You don’t say?”

“We could throw you in the ocean again,” Elias piped up between bites.

Will snickered, popping a whole marshmallow in his mouth. “It might even be therapeutic.”

“It is appallingly rude to be this out numbered,” The older man growled, shadows creasing lines in his face, frown deepening. “By miscreants no less.”

“I believe the words you’re searching for include being bested and tortured by several very, very pretty men.”

“One whom enjoys fucking with you _and_ fucking you.”

“He should count his blessings.”

“Right?” A lovely smile flashed. “See, we finally agree on something, Peter.”

Hannibal pushed to his feet, arms crossed, staring down the sharp peak of a nose. “How very nice for you both.”

“Stop teasing Hanni…” Elias implored, standing and slinging his arms lovingly around a torso. “He looks miserable.”

“At least one of you still upholds human compassion.” The older man bent and placed a kiss on the top of a head. “Decency. And far more empathy than I thought one of us possessed.”

“How much you whine when you don’t get your way.” Will teased, running a tongue over a smile. “Poor baby.”

“I am going to bathe.”

With that announcement, Hannibal dislodged a half sleeping priest and started walking towards the inky black waves.

Blue eyes strayed up. “Where are you going to…”

Elias chimed in and skipped off. “Me too.”

“Pardon?” Peter sat up abruptly.

The older man had divested of his dress shirt and halfway shimmied out of trousers when Elias streaked by him, stark naked, and leapt with a delighted shout in the waves.

“Keep those eyes in your skull where they belong, Will.”

“What happened to progression and us getting along, Peter?”

“It’s never going to fucking happen.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

*

Two figures stood at the edge of waves crashing against the shore in drying trousers, shoulders touching, gazing up at the stars. The taller of the two slipped an arm around a thin waist and pulled close, placing a tender kiss against a forehead tipping against a shoulder.

“What do you think they see?” Peter asked quietly taking the wine glass offered.

“I believe…” Hannibal sat nearest to the fire dying down, sharp angles of his face caught in flame and dark, sipping, gaze thoughtful and soft. “They see every good intention of souls lost and found in the starlight blanketing the world in darkness.”

“What do you see?”

“I imagine we share the same vision.” The older man smiled at him. “The men who love us unconditionally and without reason.”

He slung back his drink, letting it burn his throat and settle heavily in the pit of his stomach. His eyes stung. He looked at Elias leaning against Will in the distance, heart dimming, and let a thread of conversation sweep through him.

“Does he still dream?” Peter looked away, clutching his wine glass, voice dropping, nearly lost to the waves and fire. “I still dream. I wake Elias sometimes. Shouting in the middle of the night. Screaming I think may be more accurate. I know I used to wake you and Will when I first came.”

“He dreams far less than he used to.” A murmur replied, reassuring hand settling on his shoulder. “You have been a great comfort to him, Peter, for that I am grateful. He needs someone to speak to who understands from experience.”

Experience. Peter grimaced against the sensation of touch and conjured images of his past, brutal and violent and cheap. It had been nearly a decade. Years since he had been forced to do that kind of work. But he still saw their faces. Heard the chatter of his teeth biting back and choking down screams. He never gave them the satisfaction. Never made a sound. Not even when was alone. Or when he cried.

“He has you…” Peter said, patting the hand once affectionately before pushing it away.

The older man was watching the profile of his face, gaze falling to the white knuckles gripped around glass, calm voice flowing over him. “Someone more likely to become enraged by the very mention of what was done to him finds it difficult to maintain objectivity. In that respect, I am ill equipped and ineffective at providing the kind of comfort he needs.”

Peter lifted his gaze once more to the wisp of the man who could be carried off by a strong ocean breeze. Elias could have taken flight. Stranded somewhere between the tender press of his small hands and the vile memories coiled against his spine in the night. He stayed. For some reason he stayed. Peter wasn’t worth staying for. Even when they quarreled and he caused his delicate angel to weep, desperate to understand, to be whatever Peter needed him to be. They retreated to their counterparts. Elias ran to Hannibal for comfort and guidance. And he trudged with muttered curses to Will, who was more than happy to met his frustrations with physical altercations, and patient enough to hold him when it subsided and he began to sob uncontrollably. They would talk then, for hours, when the storm passed. Counseled one another on how to cope. Then he would take Elias home, thumb at the tears on his cheeks, and beg for his forgiveness inside a veil of heat and skin.

It hurt him to hear ‘I forgive you, I always forgive you’ whispered with such utter devotion against his mouth in a rush of tenderness.

“There is something to be said about standing beside a man who believes he has lost everything, all of himself, to an event he could not control. To love him throughout the fits and the nightmares, even when he struggles, fights to stay alone…” Peter bit at trembling corners of his mouth, voice rough. “You are good to him. And to the sparrow. And me. I am grateful. I owe you everything.”

Hannibal and Will had tracked him down. They had brought him here. Back to Elias. Opened their doors, their lives, and shared their home to him. A complete stranger. But most importantly, in his absence, they had taken care of the love of his life. They had given him and Elias a house of their own. But they were always drawn back to the warmth of a fire and talks in the evenings after a meal between friends.

“You owe us nothing,” The older man said firmly. “It is enough you possess gratitude and take care of our family. You are family.”

“I’m even grateful for Will…though he is a remarkable pain the ass.”

“Yes, well…” Hannibal choked on wine, laughter rising. “You eventually come to learn that is part of his charm.”

“An asset?”

The older man beamed at the pun. “I knew I was quite fond of you, Peter.”

“Sorry? What about my ass?” Will was peering at them over his shoulder quizzically, ears pricking at the hum of his name. “See, sparrow, you could do _so_ much better.”

Blank grey eyes tipped to the side. “Do I have your blessing to throw your wretched sea nymph back into the ocean from where he came from?”

“If you must.” There was a dramatic sigh and then a pause. “But bring him back relatively unscathed.”

“N-no…hey, hey, hey! Hannibal! Hannibal! Hann—“    

There was a great splash. Then another. And another. Curses turned to smiles then laughter. Three flashes of moonlight wrestled against one another for the softened touch of stars above. The fourth watched safely beside a fire and considered what he had done to deserve the love of a good man, to find his home by the sea filled once more with family.

 

*

“Come on, come closer. For fuck sake pretend like you like each other.”

Will was sitting in Hannibal’s lap. Elias was balanced between them, entirely too drunk to sit up straight on his own. An Iphone caught the light as Peter tried to fit them all in the frame of the digital screen.

“Closer. Closer. Ah, yes! Now smile and try to look less murderous, Lecters.”

There was a click and bright flash. They all blinked at green and yellow spots fuzzing their vision.

“We do not look murderous,” Hannibal grumbled, arms curving around Will as he leaned over to look at the photo.

Will’s eyes were screwed shut, laughing at the last minute. Hannibal was caught between amusement and frowning. Elias was smiling from ear to ear. Peter had put bunny ears behind the priest and was kissing a ruddy cheek.

“That’s really just how his face looks.” Will noted with a snort.

Hannibal pounced on the younger man in an instant, tickling him ruthlessly until Will was breathless and flushed pink from face to chest.

“Okay, okay, okay! I concede, fuck, Christ!”

“Remind me, why do I keep you?” The older man cupped palms underneath cool shoulder blades and chased after pink skin with light fingertips.

“Can’t live without me…” Lashes swept over crystal blue eyes as Hannibal kissed him, hands sliding in silvery hair to hold on, murmur trailing off. “…and who would look after the dogs?”

“Peter!” Elias crowed, tugging on dark curls, clinging to both Peter and Will. “Peter, I want a kiss too.”

With another pull their lips parted. Hannibal wrestled with the automatic sensation he now knew was jealousy. Will turned his face, bright eyes lifting as Elias tipped forward on knees, cupping the back of a head sweetly.

Peter had no such reservations. Or had them in spite of an earlier claim.

A low growl and possessive hands dragged Elias away before Peter pinned him to the blanket. “My mouth, _petit moineau_ , is right here…” Two fingers pointed at rosy lips inching closer. “…least you have forgotten.”

With a wet slide of tongue and lips, Elias forgot all about Will. And Hannibal. Slender fingers clenched and pulled until blonde tresses loosed, falling over shoulders. Peter smiled against the teeth nipping at him, settling comfortably between thin legs dragging him flat against the body beneath. The priest moaned against a tongue, tugging clumsily at buttons on a shirt.

“Jeeesus.” Will glanced over and groaned. “If you are going to fuck could you at least be polite enough to do it in the back of the car?”

“The Bentley is not a cheap motel,” Hannibal informed firmly, before rolling the younger man on his side and curled up against his back.

A fist thumped on his thigh. “You’ve made love to me in that cheap motel, thank you very much.”

“And on it.” Elias chirped. He clamped a hand over his mouth, the rest of his slurring muffled. “Not that…I know anything…about that.”

“Elias! Why do I tell you anything?! How the fuck did you make it through confessions?”

“Good question.” Peter smirked and kissed at the back of a hand until it relinquished the mouth he was searching for. “If you didn’t share, Will, we would have nothing to shame and humiliate you with in the future.”

“There were extenuating circumstances.”

“Is that it?” Dark brows rose high on a forehead.

“It is very difficult to concentrate with your voice droning on.” Peter was fully engaged beneath a hoodie now, palms holding down hips, and kissing his way from collarbone to sternum.

“Good to know. I’ll just keep talking then,” Will replied flatly, jabbing a thumb his direction and glanced up at Hannibal. “Why do we keep _him_? He would make a much better entree.”

The older man began to open his mouth to reply.

Breathless sighs rose. “He makes me happy.”

“The things I do for you,” Will slurred wearily, settling against arms around him.

“Excuse me.” Peter popped out from beneath the hoodie, glaring at Will and then his flushed fiancé. “The things _I_ do for you. And to you.”

"Well, yes, but Will-"

"Will, nothing. I don't want to hear it, _traitresse_!"

"I'd like to hear it, sparrow. Tell me all about how much you appreciate me."

Hannibal muffled a chuckle against a shoulder blade, slinging a leg lazily around a waist and pulling Will closer, breathing in the scent of ocean and skin. He traced the patterns starlight left across his skin. He was beautiful when he was happy. Will glanced back with a smile. His heart ached from the sight.

“I’m cold,” Elias whined, bereft Peter was glaring and not burrowed beneath his clothes.

“Should we head back?”

A wristwatch flashed in the dimming firelight. “We could stay a few more hours and watch the sun rise.”

Elias mewled several more times, eyes struggling to stay open, before he rolled over and wrestled his way into Will’s arms, curling up with a sigh.

“Little dove…” The younger man looked down at Elias, nose pressed against his chest, and then up at Peter who still staring at the spot Elias had been just a second ago. “Normally I would have no problem with being so blatantly used for my body warmth, but I don’t think…”

Soft snores reached their ears.

“Elias?” Will shook him lightly, bewilderment creasing his face. “He’s asleep.”

“Disturb him and you will never hear the end of it.”

“He is cross when he doesn’t get enough sleep. More so when he has a hangover. I hope one of us had the good forethought to bring coffee or we are all doomed.”

Peter flopped on his side, frowning and muttered, “And withholding.”

“Something else you have in common,” The older man murmured with a yawn, eyes slipping closed.

“Shut the fuck up before I bury you in the sand and leave you here for seagulls to use as a docking post.”

Hannibal snorted and held closer, pressing his cheek against the slope of a neck, and smiled. Will was never more charming than when threatening his life. He would punish him later. If he remembered. If Will didn’t distract him.

“Seeing as how I would like to continue having adventurous sex with my fiancé, I will let him stay where he is. This time,” Peter growled in a low whisper, inching closer, sliding fingers over a delicate waist until the priest was cradled between himself and Will. “If I hear anything about your hands wandering though, we’re going to have a problem.”

“So…” There was a minute long pause, throat clearing. “…morning wood is fine so long as I don’t grab his ass then?”

“You are an unparalleled dick and I wish I had never met you, Will.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Will brushed his hand over the one at the priest’s waist, squeezing lightly. “Love you too, idiot.”

Low drawling murmurs and the caress of the ocean carried them all off to sleep beneath the expanse of stars hanging in the night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah these idiots make me smile. :) This one goes out to vhope00! 
> 
> Translations:  
> Mon petit chou: my little darling /amour: love / petit moineau: little bird/ traitresse: traitor
> 
> More of your requested fic prompts on the way! xoxo


End file.
